


Take My Hand

by winterwaters



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, F/M, Fluff, POV Multiple, Smut, So you think you can dance - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt, dance competition, dance fic, dancing au, partners, sytycd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke and Bellamy enter a dancing show and get paired from the beginning. Despite starting out at odds, their partnership soon develops into something strong that exceeds the boundaries of the competition.</p><p><strong>Prompt:</strong> "have you ever seen so you think you can dance? it would make an amazing premise for our babies - they get paired up and initially hate each other but the chemistry sizzles."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lushatrocity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lushatrocity/gifts).



> Thank you for this prompt! To no one's surprise, I went overboard. Also to no one's surprise, this is pretty much all fluff. The dances I took inspiration from are noted after the story. Also, I don't pretend to know anything about what goes on behind the scenes at these competitions, so I took liberties. Hope you enjoy! :)

They stood in the narrow hallway, each leaning against the opposite wall, eyes darting everywhere but each other.

Clarke had her arms folded defensively across her chest, refusing to make proper eye contact with the smug, conceited hip hop dancer across from her. _Of course_ she’d been paired up with him in the Top 20. After everything she’d done, everything she’d sacrificed to get this far, it would be _him_ who got in her way.

 _He_ being Bellamy Blake. The boy with the shaggy dark hair and inky pools for eyes, capable of sending her temper skyhigh with one flash of those bright teeth, mouth upturned in a cocky lopsided grin that was too practiced for her to ever believe it. Talented or not, he was trouble.

Unfortunately, he _was_ extremely talented. She had to give him that. Like the rest of the room, she’d been captivated by his audition. The song he’d chosen was one she would have recognized anywhere - she wasn't one for a lot of Justin Timberlake, but she had to admit his beats were exceptional on occasion. This time, though, there were no lyrics. It was just Bellamy and the music, moving as one. There was a freeness, a fluidity, to him, that she envied even as she noted the incorrect position of his fingers, the outward turn of his toes when they should have been angled in.

But none of that mattered in the silence that fell over the room as Bellamy danced, entirely lost in the music. She maybe paid too much attention to the way the muscles in his back and shoulders shifted with each turn, each spin, each leap. 

There had been silence for maybe half a second when he finished - then the applause was raucous, thundering through the auditorium. And for one moment she’d seen the awe cross his features, the wonder of performing on stage, and she found herself hopelessly curious.

Then it was gone, back to the easy smile and charm that apparently no one was immune to. No one but her, it seemed.

During the group choreography, she’d found out just how incompatible they were. Having landed in the same group, it took mere seconds for them to begin arguing over what was more important - technique versus emoting, finesse against performance. Bellamy’s hands were warm and callous where they gripped her wrist, almost unconsciously, to tap on her watch as the hours in the night quickly ran out. 

“I can read time, thank you very much,” she snatched her hand back, partly to distract herself from the odd tingle that had run up her arm.

“Can you read minds, too, princess? Because we could really use more ideas right about now.”

That nickname-- it still made her hands clench into fists. What an arrogant person he was, thinking he could just judge her because he recognized her last name. Needless to say, their argument did not get resolved.

By some miracle they’d managed to put together some type of performance - only thanks to the others in their group who finally threatened to knock their heads together if they didn’t shut up. One of the girls, Raven, was a firecracker on and off the stage, and they found common ground in fuming over Bellamy’s idiocy. Thankfully they weren’t the only group that had issues, and came out looking rather good by comparison, even if Clarke still didn’t think the dance was anywhere near her best. She and Bellamy did a pretty decent job of avoiding each other after that.

And then it had come-- the time to find out if they’d made it into the Top 20. She’d waited nervously on the stage, watched the judges consult their notes, heard those glorious words, and stepped back into the waiting room smiling so hard she thought her face would hurt the next day, only capable of nodding when Raven bounded up. Then she was laughing, squeezing her friend so tightly their ribs felt it. Over Raven’s shoulder, her eyes flitted over the few people who were left, and found Bellamy staring back.

His features had softened imperceptibly, a crinkle by his eyes as a new sort of smile played on his lips, and she didn’t know what to make of it, because they called his name next. 

For some reason she tapped her foot nervously until he returned. This time he couldn’t hide his wonder so quickly, and she wondered exactly who was hiding under the playboy facade he seemed so eager to present.

So of course it had been her luck that she’d pull _his_ name from the hat, of all people, to be her partner moving forward for the first several dances as part of the Top 20. The live, televised rounds, incapable of editing, and she’d be on stage with Bellamy Blake.

Clarke sighed and let her head tip back against the wall as they waited outside the rehearsal room. 

~~~~~~~~

Bellamy had no idea what to make of the girl in front of him. In the past weeks, he’d watched her run the gamut of emotions, from gratitude to frustration to pure joy. Trust, though-- that one was harder to come by.

He’d been watching from the wings during her audition, intending to try and prepare for his own a little early. Octavia had convinced him to join the thing on a whim, insisting he was owed his shot, and somehow he’d made it through the pre-screenings. Now, he was here. Except instead of going over his own steps, he found himself standing stock still on the side of the stage, watching Clarke.

She was out there in a black tank top and loose blue skirt, her hair spilling freely over her shoulders. That was better, he thought, much better than the severe knot he’d seen earlier. Of course he’d noticed her. She was impossible to miss, stretching in the hall with those baby blues focused intently on her toes, pretending not to size up the competition with every careful flick. Then there was the matter of her chest, the enticing dip of her cleavage into that tank top; bound or not, there was no hiding the sway of her breasts as she moved, and his mouth was damn close to watering after watching her for only a couple of minutes.

The tag on her stomach had made him doubly curious. Like everyone, it had the dancer’s number and last name. Griffin. He wondered if that was the same Griffin as the town mayor. 

And then her song began, and his thoughts ceased. He recognized the melody instantly - Echosmith’s _Bright,_ O had had it on repeat for days - but that irritation was soon forgotten as he watched Clarke practically melt into the song. She was the embodiment of grace, all but floating across the stage, using every bit of the space to extend those long legs in splits and leaps, her spins seemingly endless, that blue skirt flying out in a circle. He admired that she used the entire area, not just staying to one spot. She’d put thought into her choreography; not one movement was out of place; not one was unexpected, either.

Bellamy wished his brain worked like that, was able to follow order to such a degree. He usually tried to make up for it by being overly expressive. Clarke’s face was open, and yet reserved. The extent to which she threw herself into the dance was present in her eyes, he could see that much. But he wondered how apparent it was to the others in the audience.

There was silence as she ended the dance folded on the floor. It was him who broke it first, his hands clapping wildly, sounding almost harsh until others joined in, and then everyone was on their feet. Clarke stood, cheeks flushed pink with exertion, her chest heaving. 

It was only then that he realized he was up just a few dancers later, and rushed away to prep, hoping the blonde got her golden ticket.

He found out the hard way that she did. Landing in the same group for choreography rounds had tested every nerve he had, and even some new ones he wasn’t aware of. She was at once infuriating and mesmerizing, and he didn’t know what to do with that.

Now, she was his partner.

And not too thrilled by it, if he was reading her right. He didn’t have time to offer any words - not that he knew what to say - because then their choreographer rounded the corner. 

“Hello hello!” The man was about his height, dark-skinned and strong, lean muscles apparent under the loose shirt and kakhis. He'd been around during the pre-screenings, just hovering, not offering comments otherwise. “My name is Thelonious Jaha, and I’ll be your choreographer for the first dance.” Without pausing, he sailed through the doorway, leaving them to trail behind. “You two lucky kids got the tango first.”

“That’s lucky?” Clarke asked, and Bellamy took some comfort in the fact that she sounded just as uncertain as he felt.

The other man barked out a laugh. “Lucky for you two. I’ve seen the footage.” They both winced a little. “This dance is going to be all push and pull, fire and fight. Somehow I don’t think you'll have a problem with that.”

And they were off. Jaha was right. It did work to their advantage. Clarke was all haughty stares and quiet tolerance, which only made him equally silent in response. She fiercely attacked each move, whether she was doing it for the first time or the last, and it made him respect her, if begrudgingly. Still, he was a bit concerned that little crease in her brow might become permanent one day.

But they got through the rehearsal okay enough, mutually agreeing to put on a face for the cameras. If it was a little forced at times, so be it. Though once they began practicing in their outfits, he had to constantly rip his eyes away from the lowcut bodice of her sparkly dress; it became easier to focus on her face when he realized even she was a bit uncomfortable in the costume. He made it through the nights by texting Octavia, begging her for details about school and hell, even Lincoln, just wanting a distraction. 

Predictably, the pre-production package played up their history of being at odds. Annoyed, he ran a hand over his slicked back hair, making a note to hide every single bottle of hair gel from the stylist next time. He snorted once or twice at the video, and at the second time, Clarke nudged him. When he glanced at her, he was surprised to see a knowing grin. 

“Use it for the performance,” she said, and winked. He laughed for the first time in days.

The judges appeared impressed enough, though one rather shrilly cautioned that moving forward, they’d have to find more common ground if they were to be partners. They took the advice like kids accepting cough medicine, swallowing the bitterness with a smile. From a sidelong glance, he got the impression Clarke was having a nastier conversation in her head. It kind of made him like her even more.

He heaved a sigh of relief when they were put through to the next round. But the advice had been true, as much as he hated to admit it. Their practices were increasingly difficult when they were always at odds. The second day, they barely got through the morning.

“You’re supposed to look like you _want_ him to catch you,” Anya threw up her hands, exasperated. She’d long waved off the cameras - one good thing about her. “Look, take some time off. Let’s try this again tomorrow. You two have a lot of work to do.”

Suitably chastened, they both headed back to their hotel rooms without a word.

~~~~~~~~

Clarke tossed and turned in her bed. Her mind was wide awake. For the life of her, she couldn’t stop thinking about the upcoming dance. About _Bellamy._ He was an enigma, one that shouldn’t have mattered so much to her but for some reason did; until she figured out the root of that, she wouldn’t trust him, and that was going to make matters worse, not better.

With a sigh, she climbed out of bed and pulled on her practice clothes, the loose skirt and tank top that always managed to bring her comfort. Heading down the hall, she gave a few reluctant taps to Bellamy’s door. 

No reply. Curious, she put her ear to the door - no shuffling, no snores… nothing. He wasn’t there.

She hoped he’d had the same idea as her and wandered downstairs to the practice rooms. But as she passed by an open door, she saw the path to the pool, and found herself hopping down there instead. When the pool rounded into sight, the dim lights glancing off the water, she stopped abruptly at the sight of the figure curled at the edge.

Bellamy looked up in surprise. “Hey.”

“Hi. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Nah. You?”

“Not a wink.” She shifted from foot to foot, suddenly unsure. Then Bellamy patted the spot next to him. Offering a small smile, she settled down, keeping ample room between them. 

“Were you practicing?” He asked, motioning to her clothes.

“Oh, no. I mean, I thought maybe we could practice, but I couldn’t find you, so I was going to head down there myself. Figured I may as well dance if I couldn’t sleep. But the pool looked pretty inviting.” 

He nodded. “It’s actually really nice here at night. Lets me think.”

“Do that a lot?” She didn’t mean for it to come out wryly, but it did. After a moment, he laughed.

“I suppose I deserved that. But yeah, if I can’t sleep sometimes it’s nice to just sit out here. No cameras and all.”

“Yeah. I have to admit, that’s the one thing that’s lived up to my expectations about this show. Zero privacy.” She sighed. “I knew it would be like that, but still. It’s just different when you’re living it I guess.”

“Can I ask you something?” Bellamy’s voice was tentative, but genuinely curious. She tilted her head, waiting. “Why’d you join the show?”

It was a good question. She took her time in answering, wanting him to understand. “I’ve been dancing as long as I can remember. I grew up taking classes, training, all throughout school. My dad took me to every practice, every recital. He was my biggest fan.”

For a moment, the words clogged up in her throat, and she had to swallow heavily before continuing. “I just want to dance. Obviously it’s not the most… stable field, I guess.” She hated repeating her mom’s words, but that’s just how it was. “Anyways, I thought if I could get far enough, maybe I’d get some visibility, maybe a company would see me or something, maybe increase my job prospects, you know? I just… I don’t want to stop because it’s not practical.” 

She’d been looking at the water while she spoke, but when Bellamy’s hand covered her own, she lifted her eyes.

“That’s a good reason,” he said softly, and she liked him all the more for it.

“Why did you join?” She asked.

He smiled, rueful. It was so different from his usual look that she found herself momentarily without breath. Hopefully he didn’t notice. “Don’t hate me for saying this, but it kind of started as a joke,” he began. “My sister, Octavia--”

“She’s the brunette, right? The one whose face always pops up on your phone?”

When he looked at her curiously, she blushed. “I just… I noticed she calls you a lot. During rehearsal breaks and stuff, you’re always texting. I- I could tell she was important to you.”

He smiled, blindingly bright. “She’s my whole world. It’s always been just me and her. Mom died when we were young, and I never knew my dad. So it’s just been the two of us. Although now I guess it’s the three of us. She’s engaged, as of a month ago.”

“Wow. That’s… congratulations,” she managed. It was weak, but that was all she had at the moment, still processing the rest. He seemed to get it. 

“Thanks. She’s stoked beyond belief. I told her I want to know every detail, so she’s constantly texting me. Venues, dresses, invitations, the whole shebang.” Bellamy chuckled. “But yeah, she’s the one who convinced me to audition. I've been dancing forever, but it was always with friends, you know? It just became the thing I turned to when I couldn't deal with everything else." He shrugged. "O dragged me here on the pretense of going to see a possible wedding location. I figured why not, and then… it sort of snowballed from there. Plus, I did my research, once I got past the audition, and… the top four, hell, even top 10, there’s potential there. I can’t lie. I could use the money. I’ve been working double, triple jobs my whole life to support me and O.”

His hand was still atop hers. Not knowing what to say, Clarke flipped her hand, letting their palms rest together. “She’s lucky to have you,” she finally said.

He blinked, gazing at her for so long she wondered what exactly he was seeing. Ever so slowly, their fingers wove together, and the smile he sent her made a flock of butterflies take flight in the pit of her stomach.

After a long moment, he stood, pulling her to her feet beside him. “Clean slate?” He asked, a tad sheepish.

Clarke smiled. “Yeah. Clean slate.”

“Good. Let’s practice, then.”

“Here? Now?”

Bellamy smiled again, a true smile, and oh god, she was absolutely not immune to this one. “Why not?” His other arm slid around her waist, anchoring her close. The proximity was suddenly dizzying.

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder of its own accord. “Th-there’s no music.”

“Is that your way of saying you’d like me to sing?” 

Surprising herself, she laughed loudly. “Please don’t. I’m afraid your voice doesn’t hold a candle to your feet.”

Bellamy made an affronted noise in the back of his throat, despite his delighted grin. “You wound me, princess.”

They began the choreography from earlier in the day, this time making a concentrated effort to move with each other, rather than against. It was considerably simpler when she wasn’t fighting him, she decided. Though maybe her body was a little too eager to melt against his now and then-- not a thought she wanted to linger on.

Then Bellamy began to change the steps, and she had to catch herself before she tripped. “What are you doing?”

“Improvising. Come on, Clarke. When was the last time you just _danced,_ without thinking about each step beforehand?” 

“I-” She stopped, worrying her bottom lip. She didn’t have an answer.

His hand brushed down her arm. “I’ve got you, alright?”

Swallowing, she nodded. When they moved again, she let her instincts guide her, creating the dance with him. It wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought, allowing him to share the space with her. It was almost nice. Then he picked her up without warning. She gasped, limbs flailing at the unexpected motion. Bellamy shushed her, not letting go.

“I got you,” he whispered.

Clarke forced her mind to calm. Winding her arms around his neck, she pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes and trusting him to hold her. His hands splayed on her hips, wide and sure, and she slowly slid down his body until her feet touched solid ground again. 

When she opened her eyes, dazed, Bellamy was looking back with a similar bewilderment.

“Uh, that… that was good, yeah, much better--” He coughed and cleared his throat one too many times, taking a step back. She suddenly felt a bit wobbly.

“Yeah. Better,” she squeaked. 

They both stood awkwardly for a minute, tapping their toes and looking anywhere but each other. She half-expected one of them to comment on the weather. When she finally thought it safe to glance up, she found him staring rather intently at the pool. She smirked.

“Going for a swim?” 

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized her mistake. Bellamy’s expression exchanged from hesitance to mischief; his eyes gleamed as he advanced. Clarke held out her hands in warning.

“No, _no,_ don’t you dare. Bellamy, I’ll--” 

The rest of her sentence became a shriek as Bellamy grabbed her around the waist and launched them both into the water. The cold was a shock to her senses, seeping down to her bones. She surfaced with a gasp, her lungs craving air. His laughter rang out behind her. Twisting, she found him grinning wildly, dark curls plastered to his head, shirt molded to his broad frame. 

With a sound that was half laugh, half battle cry, she lunged.

~~~~~~~~~

The next day’s rehearsal was considerably better. Anya found less reasons to bark at them for cooperation, instead focusing her critiques on the actual dance. That was something Clarke could finally relate to, and she latched onto it gladly, trying to concentrate on the technique and not how much she liked it when Bellamy’s fingers interlocked with hers or the way his hard chest felt against her back when he essentially had to stick to her for a prolonged period of time.

They continued to practice after hours, having found the swimming pool a rather decent hideout at night, a calm retreat from the small studios. The week passed quickly, and soon they were completing the routine live, accepting the praise from the judges, and moving on to the next round.

Somehow they ended up back with Jaha for their third dance. Clarke noticed his wide grin from the other end of the hall.

“Well well well,” he sang a little too knowingly. “Looks like the two tigers are actually kitty cats in disguise,” he crowed.

She glowered and stuck her tongue out behind his back, causing Bellamy to snort before he hurriedly transformed it into a cough. Their dance this week was the waltz, which required them to keep hold throughout. Clarke already knew she’d like the choreography - even in the first week with the tango, she’d been impressed.

Jaha didn’t disappoint. It was just as technically proficient as she’d expected, keeping the airiness of the dance intact all the same. She didn’t miss that Bellamy had a harder time with the more intricate steps, and so later by the pool, she made him do the movements for her, giving him pointers on what she saw and adjusting his limbs. They repeated the process the next night, and the next, until they were able to complete the sequence together without any mishaps.

When they finished, Bellamy surprised them both by lifting her off her feet and spinning her around in a tight hug. “Thank you,” he breathed, and she felt warmth rush into her cheeks even as she beamed back.

“Of course. You’re a good student.” 

“Try not to sound so surprised,” he teased, bumping her shoulder as they walked back. She hoped he didn’t notice the shiver that resulted. “Seriously, though. Thanks. No one’s ever taken the time to really show me that stuff. I mean, I studied Youtube videos and everything, but there’s only so much, you know?”

“I get it. It’s cool that you even studied up on that much. Makes it easier to teach you the rest.”

“You think that’s what you’d want to do, someday? Teach dance?”

She shrugged. “I’ve thought about it. My instructors were always the ones I looked up to. It would be kind of great to be that for someone else.” Bashful, she shook her head. “Maybe. Hopefully.” 

“You’ll make a fantastic teacher,” Bellamy declared, and her heart thumped a little louder.

~~~~~~~~~

The live performance was going perfectly. Things were _working,_ they were in sync and Clarke could feel her muscles loosening, settling into the movement with an ease she hadn’t felt in a long time. A glance at Bellamy told her he was feeling the same thing, and she smiled, watching as his own lips curled upwards as he brought her into a lift with understated ease.

They used the entirety of the stage, the rhythm alternating between a steady gait and a slow, almost dream-like pace. She wasn’t aware of much besides Bellamy’s hands in hers, their feet moving together, her dress floating outwards as she spun. The last sequence was the one they’d practiced so many times, until it was all but second nature. Their movements remained light, but each one lead into the next without pause, a flurry of spins and holds that forced her to rely solely on muscle memory and Bellamy. 

It happened without warning, a domino effect of events. The hem of her long dress caught awkwardly under her heel. Instead of lifting, her foot slipped and twisted. Pain shot through her ankle. She gasped, her eyes finding Bellamy’s for a fleeting moment, a desperate attempt to convey what had happened.

Without hesitating, he soothed a hand over her hair and down her back as if it was part of the choreography, then swept her off her feet, carrying her towards the darkness at the back of the stage as the song’s final notes faded. 

Clarke’s breath came in gulps; her heart hammered in her ears. She clung to his shoulders until she was sure they were out of sight of the cameras. Applause thundered around them, but all she saw was the kindness and concern in Bellamy’s dark eyes. When she nodded, he set her down gently but kept hold of her hands. She was still trembling. Gingerly, she tested her weight. Her ankle ached, but it wasn’t unbearable.

“Can you walk?” Bellamy asked lowly. 

“I think so. Just… don’t let go.”

His grip tightened. “I’ve got you.”

They strode back onto the stage and into the harsh lights hand in hand, both smiling for the host as they came to stand in front of the judges. Clarke wasn’t even listening, her eyes instead finding Jaha in the crowd. His face momentarily twisted in concern, and she knew he hadn’t been fooled one bit.

Bellamy did all the talking, still squeezing her hand in a death grip as they left. As soon as they were backstage, she paused, sagging against him, and he picked her up once more. She didn’t argue as he brought her to their dressing room, laying her down on the cot with a tenderness she didn’t quite understand. Jaha appeared within seconds, already on the phone with a medical trainer. Bellamy sat with her while they poked and prodded at her foot and asked question after question until she was exhausted. They taped up her ankle tightly, warning her not to practice for at least 48 hours, after which they’d check it again. 

She looked at Bellamy, unsure of how he’d take the news, only to have his large hand settle on her other shin, warm and reassuring. Their eyes locked and held for a long moment.

Only after everyone had left did she speak. “You covered for me.” There was no hiding her incredulity.

Bellamy heard it as well, because his brow furrowed in silent question. Quietly, she elaborated, “You didn’t have to help me out there. Others would have let it happen, let me get marked down.” She would know, after all. She’d had her share of shitty partners. Bellamy was staring at her, quizzical - and yeah, a bit angry, too.

“You really think that little of me?” he asked finally.

Her eyes widened. “No, of course not, but this is a comp-”

“Don’t.” A muscle ticked in his jaw; his hands clenched together. “Don’t say that. This isn’t just a contest, Clarke. Dancing is your _life._ I see it every day. I’d never take that away from you. I’m not like the others.”

Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. After a few tense minutes, she made herself sit up, resting one hand over both of his and touching her lips to his cheek ever so briefly. “No, you’re not,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. “Thank you.”

She felt him sigh, and then his fingers linked with hers. “You’re welcome.”

~~~~~~~~

Bellamy made sure Clarke got to her room before finally collapsing in his own bed. Taking out his phone, he didn’t bother reading the ten unread messages from Octavia, opting to call her directly. She picked up on the second ring.

“Big brother! What, too famous to talk to me already?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

She picked up on his tone instantly. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Sighing, he drew a hand over his face. “I’m fine, O. Just a long day.”

“Bell, you only ever sound like that for two reasons, and seeing as one of them is Lincoln, I know that can’t be the case. So, who is she?”

Bellamy smashed his face into the pillows. After the silence stretched to a full minute, Octavia spoke again, her voice eerily calm. _“No.”_

“Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ, Bell! You had to go and fall in love _with your partner?”_

He winced and held the phone away from his ear. His sister’s screeching volume was at max capacity. “I’m not _in love,”_ he protested, even as his brain silently added _yet._

“Well whatever you want to call it, it’s a hell of a lot more than your usual. Damn. Does she know?”

“Of course not. I’m not going to distract her with that shit right now. She needs this. We both do.”

“So what, you’re just gonna pretend up until you two have to dance a rumba or some shit and let the sexual tension snap on TV?”

“Okay first of all, there’s like ten other dances we could pull, so I’ll take my chances, and second, there is _no_ sexual tension, alright, this is one-sided and pathetic. That’s it.”

“You’re an idiot. I watch you two every week, Bell.”

“They can edit those packages to look like whatever they want--”

“I’m not talking about the pre-taped shit,” she interrupted. “I’m talking about you two, on stage, dancing. You’ve only had three dances together and I can already tell this is special. Don’t insult Clarke by pretending she doesn’t see it either.”

“When did you become her best friend,” he muttered, but he knew she was right. 

“Stop being an ass. I can tell you’re loving every minute of it.”

He finally chuckled softly. “I miss you, O.”

“Miss you too. You better get your ass back here as soon as you win that thing. Don’t make me threaten you with elopement again.”

“As if you could keep me away.” He exhaled loudly, turning to his side. “O… I’m not sure I’m gonna win. Wait, hear me out,” he requested, knowing a protest was on the tip of her tongue. “There’s a lot of talented people here. I think I can make it to the top ten. Maybe top four, if I’m lucky with viewer votes. Even that’ll be more than enough to pay off your loans, though. I might be able to finish my degree sooner than I thought.”

Octavia was quiet for a while, but this time it was a considering sort of silence, one that told him she was carefully turning over his words in her head.

“You want her to win, don’t you?”

He thought about denying it, settling on a half-truth. “I’m not sure what I want anymore. Things aren’t as black and white as I thought.”

“They never are.” She sighed. “For what it’s worth, you seemed happy out there tonight. I’m glad for that. Really.”

He thought of the look on Clarke’s face as they’d danced, her undisguised joy that mirrored his, and smiled. “Me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~

They made it through to the next week, Clarke able to hide her limp well enough that most people took it for a temporary muscle strain. Then they pulled ‘contemporary’ as their next piece. They happened to have a couple as their choreographers - two women named Lexa and Costia. Clarke’s breath rushed out in a whoosh as they headed to the rehearsal room.

“They’ve won like every award there is,” she said quietly. “I hope I can live up to whatever they’ve got for us.”

“You will,” he said firmly, and clasped her hand without thinking.

She needn’t have worried. As soon as they walked in, the brunette - Lexa - shooed the cameras out, asking for a few minutes of privacy. She got what she wanted without any argument. Once the door closed, the women motioned them to the opposite side of the room.

“How bad is it?” Costia asked.

When Bellamy and Clarke traded a blank glance, she put a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “We know about your leg. Thelonious informed us. He didn’t want it to get worse.”

Bellamy could see Clarke already panicking. “It’s- it’s fine, really, I--”

“She shouldn’t put too much weight on it for a long period. No hard impact,” he interrupted, ignoring her glare. “I was thinking more lifts. And if we can stay barefoot that’d be a lot better.”

Lexa and Costia eyed him appraisingly, then nodded their approval. “Good. We we were thinking as much,” Lexa said. To Clarke, she added, “You’re lucky to have a partner who looks out for you.”

He felt his face heat up a little, but when Clarke’s soft “I know” reached his ears, he couldn’t feel much aside from the butterflies taking flight in his stomach.

Following doctor’s orders, they didn’t practice much that day, instead collaborating with the other women on what moves they thought would be more practical. To his chagrin, they insisted on him going through a few steps alone, and he felt rather like a monkey on display at the zoo. That was, until he caught Clarke’s eyes in the mirror, and the admiration on her face nearly made him fall flat. It was all he could do to follow their instructions after that.

That night, he stopped by her room well after lights out, knowing she’d still be up. She answered after just the second knock. His mouth went dry at the sight of her in a simple tank and the tiniest pair of shorts known to man, and it was a herculean effort to drag his gaze upwards from those impossibly long legs. 

“Hey.” Clarke smiled, oblivious to his thoughts, and leaned against the doorway. “What’s up?” 

“I… uh…” Why had he come by? The sharp bite of cold in his palm finally reminded him. “I managed to scrounge some extra ice packs from downstairs, wasn’t sure if you maybe needed them for your leg?” He offered weakly.

“Oh, yeah, these are a big help. Thank you, Bellamy. I was just changing the wrapping, actually.” She turned and headed inside, and he had to tear his eyes from where her shirt had ridden up, the little divots on either side of her spine teasing him from afar. Then it occurred to him that she’d left the door open, and he hoped that was an invitation for him to enter. Closing it behind him, he took in the unmade bed, the practice clothes strewn around the floor. It made him grin, to think she was kind of a mess in at least one aspect of her life.

She saw his gaze and flushed. “Sorry about all this. I was, uh…”

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing’s as bad as my sister’s closet, trust me,” he grinned, and she returned it with relief. Glancing at the TV, his eyebrows lifted. _”The Bourne Ultimatum?”_

“Yeah, I love this movie. The whole trilogy’s great, but this one is the best. I love that they do repeats on TNT like every other weekend.”

“I know right? I saw this one in theaters twice. And I usually never go at all, so that’s a big compliment.”

“You don’t like seeing movies in theaters?” Clarke asked curiously. 

He shrugged, still standing. “I mostly went with my sister, when she was younger. But nowadays I can’t really fork over like $12 for a ticket every time I want to see one, you know? I still go, just not as often. It’s kind of nice, though. Makes it more of a treat.”

“That’s fair enough. It’s more fun when you can go with someone you know will enjoy it. My dad and I used to go a lot when I was little. But,” she leaned closer, confiding wistfully, “I’ve always wanted to go a drive-in movie. They sound like such fun.”

“We should go sometime.” It popped out of his mouth without much thought. Then he realized what he’d said and found her staring at him in surprise. There was a flash of something else, too-- excitement, possibly? In the end, that was what made him continue.

“I mean, after all this, obviously,” he waved a hand at the room. “But I know a spot outside the city. I used to work there during high school. It’s pretty decent.”

“That sounds nice,” Clarke smiled shyly before turning her attention to her leg. 

He couldn’t help but inch forward a little, cautiously taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “How’s it holding up?”

“Pretty well. I’ve been icing it regularly and trying to keep off it unless totally necessary. I’m just…” A few strands of hair flew up as she let out a frustrated breath. 

“What is it?”

“I’m just annoyed. With the situation. I want to be a good partner, not someone you have to constantly look after.”

“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it, though?” He asked gently. She looked up. “Being partners means we look out for each other. Give and take. This time it’s your turn to take, that’s all.” When her answering smile wasn’t quite as wide as he’d have liked, he ran his fingers up the sole of her foot, making her shriek and pull back.

He laughed loudly at her affronted expression. “I’ve been dying to know if you’re ticklish anywhere,” he admitted.

This time her smile practically glowed, cheeks rosy, and he was pretty sure he was going to do something stupid if he didn’t get out of there soon. The only problem being, he really didn’t want to leave.

Then Clarke bent one leg to lay the ice overtop her ankle, scooting back against the pillows. Bellamy glanced to her side. She was sitting decidedly on the right side of the bed - plenty of room for a second person, though she had her eyes lowered, focused on properly elevating her foot. Hiding his happy smile, Bellamy rounded the bed, then toed off his shoes and sat beside her, stretching his legs out in front of him. 

He fell asleep with Clarke’s head drooping against his shoulder, his cheek resting atop her hair, and even though he woke with a hell of a crick in his neck and pins and needles in his arm, the sleepy smile on Clarke’s face him made him feel like he could take on just about anything.

Their dance that week was heavy on lifts, as he’d hoped. But what he hadn’t expected was the sheer amount of movement that was built into Clarke’s time in the air. The moves were flowing and intricate, perfect for contemporary style, but also left her airbound for a long time, with nothing but him to support her. 

The only way this was going to work was if she fully trusted him. And to his surprise, she did. There was no hesitance in the way she gave herself over to the dance, and he forgot the cameras, forgot the choreographers, and it was just the two of them, her silently testing his statement from the night before and him promising it was true.

Bellamy went back to his room on shaky legs, aware that something had changed, but unsure what to do about it. He was lying facedown on top of the covers, still fully clothed, when the soft knock sounded at his door. Blearily, he lifted his head to check the clock, only then seeing how late it was. He could only think of one person who would know he was awake.

He was up in an instant. Clarke stood outside with a nervous smile, the bag in her hand giving off a distinct buttery smell. “The Avengers is on TBS,” she said a tad hopefully, and he grinned and pulled her inside.

It continued through the weekend, to his absolute delight. The routine went off without a hitch during the live show, though he again probably wouldn’t have noticed, being as lost as he was in Clarke and the dance itself. His main source of comfort was that she seemed similarly dazed coming out of it, and he could only hope whatever was changing was for the better. 

Their host made some comment about the clear shift in their relationship, nearly making his heart stop, but then he realized it was just a reference to their first tango-- it felt so long ago now. He felt like a completely different person.

~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke was a bundle of energy when they got their next routine. He couldn’t help but be caught up in her enthusiasm. She was clearly so ready to bounce back, and also just ready to let loose, and it brought a smile to his face more times than he could count. This routine was set to Mercy, a song he only knew thanks to Octavia’s penchant for replaying the hell out of it.

“Seriously?” Clarke propped her hands on her hips when the story was laid out for them. “I’m the crazy ex-girlfriend? _That’s_ what you came up with?”

“Come on babe, you know you want this,” Bellamy gestured to himself with a leering smile. He managed to hold the expression for ten more seconds, then burst into laughter.

Clarke shoved him halfheartedly, but he could hear her giggling even as she strode to the opposite end of the rehearsal room. The dance was freeing and fun and simple -- it was like their choreographer had known they just needed something jovial to lighten the mood from the past few weeks. They maybe laughed a little too much throughout, trading enough lighthearted jabs that Sterling had to remind them to stay in character.

“So unoriginal,” Clarke muttered under her breath.

He snickered. “Sorry you’re not my type, sweetheart,” he lied, voice low and mocking. 

“Your loss, honey,” she replied just as sweetly, and damn if she didn’t add a little extra swish to her hips as she walked away, leaving his mouth drier than a desert.

The result of their insanely fun practice sessions was a pre-taped package that looked like a hell of a lot of flirting, and as they got ready to take their spots on the stage, Bellamy noticed Clarke eyeing the footage a little apprehensively.

“Hey.” He tilted her chin up. “Let’s make them forget about that with the next five minutes, okay?” She smiled gratefully and nodded. Right before he hurried out, he added, “Don’t forget, you find me irresistible.”

“In your dreams,” came her hissed reply, and he had to fight the urge to grin stupidly throughout the dance.

~~~~~~~~~~

Clarke was having the time of her life. As soon as the pre-taped video ended and the lights came up, it was _on._ The song was one of her favorites already, just a carefree one to dance to, and despite the ridiculous premise Sterling had set, she was still enjoying herself.

They were using a prop door as the center of the routine, with her essentially dragging, kicking, flying through it at all times. There was a glint in Bellamy’s eyes even as he took on the brash, too-cool persona, and she couldn’t help but grin herself when she realized it was pretty much what she’d thought of him all those weeks ago.

She didn’t particularly relish being labeled as the crazy ex, but she’d known enough girls in high school that could have made the cut, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to channel that. She doubted most others would see the mockery in her performance-- but Bellamy did, if the twinkle in his eyes was any indication.

The dance essentially called for her to drape herself over him in any way she could think of before he carried or flung her back through the doorway, and each time she did it was impossibly hard to contain her glee at being able to simply bounce around again, the occasional twinge in her ankle the only reminder not to go completely off the rails just yet. And she was running out of reasons not to touch him, so whatever.

When it was over, the darkness enveloped them for a brief moment, the applause instantaneous. She was grinning happily as Bellamy hauled her to her feet, sweeping her into a hug regardless of the audience. She returned it just as fiercely, her pulse still thudding in her ears.

~~~~~~~~~~

They made it into the Top 10 easily. Bellamy surprised her that night with a bottle of champagne smuggled inside a blanket, and when she delightedly asked how in the world he’d managed it, he only grinned mysteriously and replied, “Can’t show my all my cards so quickly, princess. Now do you want to talk or drink?”

They drank. A lot. And maybe if she touched his biceps or his back or even his hands a little too much - she was a snuggly drunk - Bellamy didn’t seem to mind.

The morning after was considerably rougher, but totally worth it. It also helped that the sight of a rumpled and groggy Bellamy made her heart skip a beat. Paired with his sleepy eyes and endearingly confused smile, heat spiraled through her body in no time. She made sure the water in her shower was extra-cold that morning.

Being in the Top 10 meant it was time to switch up partners. Which, honestly, she was straight up bummed about. Not because her new partner was a sore - not in the least. Nathan Miller was as genuine as they came, and talented to boot. He also happened to be Bellamy’s friend, which only made her like him more. They got along easily from the start. Thankfully their dance to Boogie Shoes was light and fun, and didn’t call for romance, seeing as their rapport was more akin to brother and sister than anything else.

She was elated when Bellamy continued their tradition of showing up at her door after hours. Having sniffed out her weakness for chocolate - not all that difficult to find - he dangled a bag of Thin Mints in front of her nose. Usually they managed to find a movie on TV, but more and more it just became background noise to their conversations as they lounged on the bed or decided to go for a late-night walk. 

“Anya has it out for me, I swear,” she grumbled into her pillow one night.

Bellamy laughed, linking his arms behind his head. “At least you don’t have Indra. God, what an old bat. I haven’t seen her crack a smile _once_ this entire week. I don’t even think she has the facial muscles for it. No wonder our number’s some crazy warrior-themed piece.”

“Yikes. Raven can’t be taking that well.”

“She makes an awesome warrior, don’t get me wrong. But damn, some days it’s a staring contest, other days I’m convinced they’re about to create a boxing ring and just go at it. Honestly I don’t know if either one would be left alive.”

She giggled, stretching, then cursed as her shoulder muscles protested. Bellamy’s hand landed on her back. “Shit, is it that bad?”

“Anya seems to have much more faith in my flexibility than I do,” Clarke mumbled, already short on breath as his fingers began to knead her skin. His small murmur of disapproval told her he was frowning, and he pressed down a little more insistently. She managed to swallow her first gasp of pleasure, but when it became clear that her vocal chords were no longer going to form coherent syllables, she gave up and shoved her face into the pillow, praying he couldn’t see how tightly her legs were clamped together under the blanket.

She was nearly asleep when he finally withdrew, chuckling at her drowsy mumble. With a tenderness that made her heart ache, he pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. At the dip of the mattress, she forced an eye open to see him leaning over the edge of the bed, presumably to put his shoes back on.

“Bell,” she reached out and tugged his shirt. He glanced over his shoulder with a radiant grin, momentarily halting her thoughts.

“I’ve never heard anyone but my sister call me that.”

“Oh. Should I not have-”

“No, no. I- I like it.” The smile transformed to something almost shy, and in that second she realized just how much trouble she was in.

“Okay.” It came out as a quick breath. Then: “Are you leaving?”

“I… well, you looked ready to pass out so I just thought…” Bellamy trailed off, staring down at her quizzically. She got the impression he was having an internal debate, so she stayed quiet. Finally, he said, “I don’t have to go.”

Clarke smiled and closed her eyes. “Then don’t.”

A minute later, his weight shifted back onto the mattress, and when she peeked through her lids his hand was resting next to hers by the pillow, palm up. Her pinky inched across the gap and looped with his.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bellamy and Raven's dance was spectacular. Set to Battlefield, the routine was actually a study in control - or rather, loss of it, she thought. Their movements were forcibly jerky and limited at times, like puppets on a string. Much harder than it looked, and yet they made it seem effortless when the control began to slip, inch by inch. And their faces-- that was where they excelled. Raven was a phenom - to no one's surprise. Her black hair flying loose, it nearly became another limb, another extension of herself as she danced.

Watching from the side of the stage, Clarke was afforded a perfect view of Bellamy. She knew by now that he didn't give himself nearly enough credit. But he was a force of nature out there, the emotions transforming his features and informing his movements so well that she could feel it, feel every second of the dance until her limbs were itching to move in tandem with his. He was clad in only trousers, and so his uncovered torso made it even easier to see the muscles ripple and flex, the strength in those arms that had lifted her countless times, the beautiful sweep of his broad shoulders. It was almost like watching his first audition, except, now that she knew the boy behind the mask, she was only more enamored than ever.

"They're really something, aren't they?" Miller was looking on just as wistfully. "Times like these it's hard to remember it's a contest."

Clarke smiled, her eyes fixated on the whirlwind of a boy on stage. "Yeah. It is."

When they finished, her voice was the first to break the silence with a loud whoop, and then everyone was adding to the cacophony that filled the auditorium.

They both made it into the Top Eight, and that was when Raven picked Clarke’s name from the hat. She didn’t have to say a word, simply turned and wiggled her eyebrows, and Clarke laughed even as they collided in a hug. They had been dying to dance together since day one, but aside from a few silly moments, the competition had overtaken everything else. Now though, they were going to kill it.

The others groaned goodnaturedly at the sight of them all but skipping into their rehearsal room, to which Raven blew a kiss with her middle finger. A woman named Emori was their mentor this round, to Clarke’s consternation and Raven’s glee. Hip-hop was a style she envied, and had always wanted to try, but something about the movement continued to elude her. Her body just couldn’t seem to break out of the structure it knew so well.

The practice went as well as expected, though that night she found herself grumbling to Bellamy about how hapless she appeared next to Raven. “It’s like it just _flows_ through her body. She looks so natural doing any of it. I just look like a wannabe.”

“Clarke, you do know that’s how most people feel around you, right?”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, come on.” Bellamy tugged at the arm that had fallen over her eyes. “I’m kind of serious. Even when I was dancing next to you in the beginning, all I could think was how obvious it was that I didn’t belong here.”

She stared. “That’s just stupid. Of course you belong here, Bell. You’re fantastic.”

She’d long learned he didn’t take compliments very well, so when he rubbed his neck and began to look down, she tilted his chin back up. “I mean it. I’m so jealous of the things you can do. Your audition… it was like a whole other world I’d never really gotten to know. Taking out the lyrics was a great choice, too.”

He smiled, pleased. “My friend Monty created the remix specially for the occasion. He’s a DJ at a few…” His eyes widened. “Oh my god. I should have thought of this sooner. Get up.”

“What? Why?” 

Grinning, Bellamy stood, bringing her with him. “We’re going dancing.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Bellamy stood in Clarke’s room, bouncing on his heels as he waited for her to change in the bathroom. She’d thrown out every excuse she could muster, from tiredness to contest rules to simply not having the right clothes, but he’d blatantly ignored each one, instead focusing on the spark in her eyes that told him she was more exhilarated than anything else.

She’d trudged to the bathroom holding her one and only sundress - “It’s not even remotely club material” - while he tapped his foot, for once the impatient one of the two.

When she stepped outside, he could only smile. The dress was a pale purple, more lilac than lavender - and yes, he did know the difference, thanks to Octavia’s determination on lavender bridesmaid dresses. The fabric was simple and flowy, no embellishments. Just soft material that clung to Clarke’s torso like a second skin before dropping over the flare of her hips, little pleats at the hem. The straps were thin, barely there, double-knotted in large loops over her shoulders. 

“Told you it’s not for a club,” she mumbled.

“Nonsense. You look beautiful.” He grabbed her hand and lead her into the hall, pretending not to feel her wide baby blues boring into his skull the entire way.

They snuck out the back exit, then took a cab to one of the lesser-known spots in the city. Bellamy liked to think of it as his own personal hole-in-the-wall. It also happened to be where Monty was deejaying tonight, if he remembered correctly. Clarke’s head was swiveling in all directions as they pulled up.

Her mouth quirked to the side after he paid the cabbie. “So, is this where you bring all the girls?” The lightness in her voice was a tad forced. So he stepped closer, banding arm around her waist.

“I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he said honestly. It was true; if and when he came here, it was to cheer on his friends, and to dance. It was part of the charm. Everyone was too lost in the music to concern themselves with the stuff that went on at other clubs.

Clarke assessed him quietly, and when her eyes softened, he smiled and tugged her inside. The place was already packed with bodies, as he’d hoped. Music blared from the speakers, the beat already making his body twitch with eagerness. They skirted the side of the crowd, Clarke’s eyes flickering left and right, up and down, until they reached the bar. 

He had to lean down until his lips were at her ear to be heard. The scent of peppermint invaded his senses. “What’re you drinking?” 

“I’ll have what you’re having.” 

“Suit yourself.” He called for two whiskey shots, grinning when Clarke wrinkled her nose. 

“You need to loosen up, princess. Trust me, this’ll do the trick.”

“I’m well aware,” she replied dryly.

Tapping her shoulder, he pointed to the corner where an Asian boy was standing, his head encased with gigantic neon green headphones. “That’s my buddy Monty.” Clarke smiled in recognition. Then their shots arrived, and he handed one to her. “Bottom’s up.”

He hesitated a fraction of a second, for some reason wanting to see her take the shot. She took a breath, then knocked it back in one fluid motion, making a face after setting the glass down. Chuckling, Bellamy threw back his own.

“One more,” Clarke called to the bartender. When Bellamy’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, she shrugged. “Your fault.”

Oh, this was going to be fun. 

He paused again to watch her tip her head back, the line of her throat mesmerizing as she easily took the shot. Her mouth curled in a grin when she caught him watching, and she put a hand on her hip, expectant. Once he tossed his back, she asked, “Now what?” 

“What, you don’t want another?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He laughed and pulled her out onto the dance floor, weaving between the bodies until he found a corner spot with just enough room. When he turned, he was delighted to find Clarke already mid-spin, having apparently found her groove faster than Stella, and when she swished her skirt and beckoned him closer with a flutter of her lashes, he was a goner. 

The music pounded through his eardrums and into his heart as they danced for the simple joy of it. He was barely paying attention to his own movements, so lost in the peace that had taken hold of Clarke’s face. This was what he’d wanted, for her to stop thinking so hard and just _feel._

Then the song changed, the pace flowing from up-tempo to a slick beat that thudded along with his pulse. This wasn’t something you jumped around to; nor was it a slow dance. He licked his lips, suddenly nervous. Clarke opened dreamy eyes to meet his, and smiled, holding out a hand. Bellamy spun her into his hold without hesitation. Her back rested flush against his chest, his arm banded around her waist, loose at first, then tightening when she slid her hand over his own. She sighed and all but melted against him.

He nearly forgot how to move in that moment, all his senses so consumed by her. Clarke, thankfully, had not. The sway of her hips was enough to snap him out of it - okay, one part of him especially - and he had to bite back a groan when she slid her other hand up to curl around his neck.

His lips were inches from her pulse, the sweat on her neck begging to be tasted by his tongue. Bellamy wanted to know if her heart was hammering just as wildly as his own. Exercising more restraint than he knew himself to possess, he dropped his forehead to her shoulder, his hands on her hips urging on her movement, their bodies moving together like old lovers.

The song seemed to go on forever-- or perhaps it was several songs. Bellamy couldn’t say. He was overwhelmed by the girl in his arms who didn’t seem to have a care in the world at the moment. She’d since twisted to face him, her eyes closed once more even as her arms remained around his neck. As he watched her move, a smile playing on her lips, any lingering doubt left his mind. 

He was in love.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the rhythm eventually changed once more, it was like coming up for air after having been underwater for years. Clarke opened her eyes, blinking a few times at Bellamy, who looked similarly stunned. Her body thrummed with energy, the music singing through her veins in a way she sorely missed, and she didn’t want it to end yet.

“More shots?” She yelled.

Bellamy grinned. By the time they’d done two more rounds, she was all too ready to dance again, the beat having transformed into something wild and frenetic. It was her who dragged Bellamy back out this time, her who shook every limb until he was doubled over in laughter-- honestly, that sound was even better than the music.

She lost track of how long they continued to dance, caught up in the moment and each other. Only when her stomach began to grumble vehemently did she pause and pull him aside.

“I need to eat.”

“Okay. I know a place.”

“I was counting on that.”

They ended up at a bar nearby, where Clarke ordered their largest basket of fries and ended up taking a few bites from Bellamy’s burger too. Happily, she slumped back in her chair.

“This was fun,” she murmured, and grasped his hand. “Thanks, Bell.”

He beamed. Surprising them both, he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles before letting go. She convinced him to walk home, insisting she needed the cool night air to properly sober up. Which, in all fairness, was true. But she also didn’t quite trust herself to sit in the backseat of a cab with him and not do a thing about it.

When her eyes landed on a colorful sign one block over, Clarke all but skipped inside the ice cream store, ignoring Bellamy’s low chuckle. “Two scoops of chocolate in a cone please. And…” She glanced at Bellamy, who merely lifted an eyebrow. 

_Guess, princess._

Narrowing her eyes, she tapped her chin in thought. “Cookies and cream. In a waffle cone.”

She waited until they were strolling along the sidewalk again before eyeing him sidelong. Much of first scoop had already disappeared. She grinned. Success.

By some unspoken mutual agreement, she knew Bellamy wouldn’t come inside her room that night. And it was okay. She figured there would be time for… that, later. Right now they were both enjoying each other’s company, enjoying simply being with each other-- something she knew better than to take for granted after the way things had started off so many weeks ago.

So when he dropped her at her door with a soft “good night,” she only smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek, lips brushing over the hint of stubble. Bellamy stared for a long moment as a flush crept up her neck, finally sending her an ecstatic grin before heading to his room. She watched him walk down the hall, waiting until he turned the corner out of sight before entering her own room and collapsing on the bed with a sigh.

Her morning alarm went off far too soon, but even so she was still bouncing on her heels a little as she headed to the practice room to warm up. Raven looked up from where she sat on the floor, a cunning grin lifting her lips. 

“Well well well. Someone looks happy.”

Clarke turned red on the spot, even as she tried to shrug nonchalantly. “What do you mean?”

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “Are we really gonna do this?”

With a small laugh, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and flopped down beside her. “Nah, I guess not. I just… I had a good night of sleep, that’s all.”

“I highly doubt that.” Raven smirked at her curious glance. “I saw you two sneaking back in this morning.”

Oh. _Oh._ Fuck. “Raven, I--that’s not--” The words stuck in her throat. Frustrated, she asked, “What were you doing up at that hour anyways?”

“Sneaking in, what else?” Raven laughed as her jaw dropped. “I can keep a secret with the best of ‘em. Trust me, I won’t tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I mean, we went dancing, yeah. But that’s it. Nothing happened.” _Unfortunately._

The other girl gave her a long onceover, then nodded. “I believe you. But it might, right? In the very near future?”

Clarke studied her feet. “I don’t know. I mean… I hope so. He’s… we’ve become really close. I just don’t know where it’s headed at the moment.”

“That’s okay. But you should hold onto that, Clarke. Show or not, chances like this don’t come by very often.” 

She smiled in thanks. “So what are the chances you’ll tell me why you were sneaking in?”

“I missed my boyfriend.” The reply was so quiet that Clarke almost thought she’d imagined it, except when she looked up to find Raven carefully adjusting her leggings, she knew it was true. 

“Well he must be pretty stellar if he’s with you,” she answered, and Raven grinned.

Their practice was much better that day. Clarke felt herself loosening up enough to take on the moves more fluidly, so that she at least didn’t feel so out of place next to Raven. They stayed behind a little longer, going over some of the more complex steps until Raven left her to continue on alone. The next day, Emori introduced their accompanying music - Run The World. Clarke laughed with Raven, giving her a high five, and they dove back into the routine with extra gusto. By afternoon, they were both dripping in sweat and highly satisfied with themselves.

The night of the live show, Bellamy surprised her backstage as they were prepping to go on. She didn’t see him coming, barely had time to gasp when he ducked over her shoulder and kissed her cheek with a wet smack.

“Give ‘em hell, princess,” he called, sauntering off. “You too, Raven.”

Clarke stood frozen for another minute until Raven’s chortle broke through her muddled thoughts. Sheepishly, she grinned and let Raven tug her out into the lights, losing herself to the dance as soon as the first beat sounded over the speakers. For once, the audience wasn’t a distraction, but actually a huge help, adding to the high energy of the dance and making her smile throughout. Raven was like a stick of dynamite that had been lit, her limbs slicing through the air with precision even as her face shined under the lights.

When it was over, they were treated to a standing ovation from the judges, but all Clarke could see was Bellamy on the side of the stage, two fingers in his mouth as his whistles pierced the air. 

~~~~~~~~~~

This week was a double elimination. Clarke stood among the remaining six dancers, shoulder to shoulder between Bellamy and Raven. Miller was standing in the pit, among the two that had already been saved. Their host was flipping through the cards in her hand, readying to announce the next saved names. Clarke found Bellamy’s hand and hung on.

Raven was first, followed by another boy - Cooper, if she remembered right. Clarke’s name was called next. It took her an extra few seconds to process that she was safe. Then she looked up at Bellamy. He smiled and squeezed her hand before letting go.

Silently, she headed down the stairs and stood next to Raven, who slid a comforting arm around her back. Dread rose in her as the host paused to chat with the remaining dancers on stage. Her eyes remained solely on Bellamy, thinking of everything that was yet to come. It couldn’t be his time. He was a shoo-in for the finals. How could he not be? How could everyone else not see it?

And yet, they continued to whittle down the dancers until only three were remaining. Bellamy was one of them. She waited, unable to breathe, praying that the name they called out next was his.

It wasn’t.

She gaped in shock as the music began to play, the screen showing the dancers’ journey all the way from the beginning. She couldn't comprehend it until she saw his face appear in the video, and then she was swallowing the sob that had risen in her throat. Bellamy was going home. The boy who’d become so beloved to her in such a short span of time would no longer be right down the hall, no longer be waiting outside her door with a quick smile ready to watch the latest movie until she fell asleep atop him.

Then Raven was drawing her into a tight hug, a whisper in her ear. “They’ll have to let him pack up. As soon as the interviews are done, go back to the room.”

Clarke nodded numbly, trying to force a smile onto her face as the packages ended. The host thrust her mic into Bellamy’s face, allowing him to say a final few words. He thanked the judges profusely, and the audience voters, for helping him get this far. Then his eyes found hers.

“This whole thing has been lifechanging, to say the least. And I know I didn’t get to the end, but what I’m taking with me is so much more important than that.”

She kept looking at him until Raven tugged at her elbow. “We gotta go. The faster you get this over with, the faster you can get back.”

Clarke let herself be led to a separate area where they conducted the interviews for those who would be moving on. She answered all the requisite questions as well as she could, not even really registering what she said. As soon as it was done, she rushed back to the hotel, cursing every slow traffic light and the even slower elevator. Heading down the hall, she rapped quickly on his door. 

“Bellamy,” she called. “It’s me, are you there?” _Please please please be there._

She was met with silence. Tears welling in her eyes, she rested her forehead against the wood.

~~~~~~~~~

Bellamy stood in the elevator, fiddling with his keys. Of course he’d get all the way downstairs and then forget his iPod, of all things, in a damn drawer. Though frankly it was a miracle he’d packed up everything else as well as he did, with Clarke’s stricken expression a near-permanent fixture behind his eyelids. He wished he’d had a chance to at least see her one more time.

With a sigh, he stepped out of the elevator and rounded the corner, only to come to a standstill. His beautiful, passionate partner - _friend_ \- was standing outside his door.

“Clarke?”

She whirled around, her crumpled face giving way to relief. “Bellamy,” she breathed, and then he only had time to drop his bag as she launched herself into his arms, burying her face into his shoulder. Thanking every deity he could think of, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her to her toes. The smell of peppermint hit his nostrils, making him smile. They swayed on the spot for a few long minutes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered eventually. Bellamy pulled back, already shaking his head.

“Don’t be. I’m not.” He meant it. The competition had given him so much more than he’d ever expected-- first and foremost the girl standing in front of him. 

Clarke sniffed and dragged her hand over her eyes. “You deserve to go further.”

“So do you.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Clarke, it’s just two weeks til the Top Four. I’ll be watching at every step. Get into that final. I know you can. Besides, before you know it I’ll be back for the finale and you’ll be tossing me into the pool all over again.”

“You tossed _me_ in.”

“Alright, then you’ll finally have your shot at revenge.”

She laughed and nodded. “Deal.”

Bellamy smiled, stroking her cheek. Now that he was no longer part of the show, he was just another viewer with a favorite. And he was damn well going to make sure she knew it. But before he could say anything, Clarke stretched to her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

There was a moment of frozen astonishment on his part, and then his mouth opened on a sigh, slanting warmly over hers. A hand splayed on her back to urge her closer, and she came willingly, fingers curling into his hair. He kissed her with everything he had, deciding the least he could do was leave her with a proper memory until they had a chance to make more.

When they broke apart, he kept his arms around her, unwilling to let go right away. Clarke seemed perfectly content to remain in his hold, her hand playing with the curls on his neck.

Cheeks stained pink, she said, “I had to do that at least once, before you left.”

Bellamy smiled and slid a hand up to tangle into her long locks. “I think we have time for more than one.”

~~~~~~~~~

Time passed by in a blur after that. Clarke managed to distract herself from the thought of Bellamy’s impossibly soft lips and perfect hands by throwing herself into her routines, choreographing her final solos at night in her room. She missed him terribly. Not just the dancing, though that was also strange to do without him at her side, but the late nights just spent chatting or being in his company. He’d wound his way into her heart rather quietly; now she didn’t ever want him to leave.

They managed to at least stay in touch by phone. She loved coming back at the end of each day to find her cell filled with Bellamy’s texts, even a few pictures of him and his sister, who apparently “approved 100%” according to his most recent text, a fact that made her smile foolishly as she fell asleep.

She did get into the Top Four, along with Raven, Miller, and a boy named Atom. Bellamy’s text was instantaneous. A shiny tiara sparkled from atop his curls, his dark lashes fluttering coyly for maximum effect. Clarke’s stomach was still aching with laughter when he called.

“Please don’t tell me that’s your sister’s,” she answered.

“It’s not. I promised her I would take a selfie if you made it into the finals. All in your honor, princess.”

Still giddy with relief, she sighed and flung herself backwards on the bed. “God. I can’t believe it’s here. It’s just… It’s so surreal.”

“I knew you could do it.”

She smiled. “Thanks. So have they contacted you yet about the finale?”

“My lips are sealed,” Bellamy replied cheekily. “You’ll just have to wait and seeeee.”

“Fiiine. You know, this is going to sound really cheesy but… making it this far, I kind of already feel like I won, you know? I mean, I’m going to give it everything I have, but this has already been so much more than I could have ever anticipated.” She wasn’t just talking about the competition, and he knew it.

“And anyways, Raven is insanely talented. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to see win. Besides you, I mean,” she added a bit shyly.

“Well of course.” Bellamy chuckled. “For what it’s worth, I’m rooting for you. But Raven winning wouldn’t be the worst thing. Miller either. As long as it’s not Atom. He’s insufferable.”

Then there were the sounds of a struggle, and she laughed into her pillow when Octavia’s voice suddenly chimed through the speaker, clamoring to speak to “the princess.” She spent the rest of the night offering her thoughts on Octavia’s wedding - flowers, size, dresses - while the siblings bickered back and forth on the other end. 

~~~~~~~~~

When she went downstairs to the rehearsal room the next morning, she was surprised to see the door already open. Curiously, she took a step inside, then another, turning a confused circle inside the empty room. But the cameras stayed trained on her. Suspicious, she decided to just go through her warm-ups to relax herself. In the midst of stretching out her calves, a set of footsteps rang out in the hallway, getting louder as they approached.

A long arm stretched into the room, a huge bouquet of flowers clutched in his dark fist. Then Jaha’s head popped into few, eyebrows wiggling, and she laughed, accepting the colorful assortment with a kiss to his cheek.

“Apparently our lovely producers have decided to go with the nostalgia angle,” he remarked casually into the cameras, and she grinned behind her bouquet.

“Is anyone else joining us?” She asked.

His eyes gleamed mysteriously, but he only said, “How are your ballroom skills?”

She made a face. Chuckling, he held out a long blue skirt that fell to her ankles, swishing like a sigh with every step. The next half hour was spent running through various positions, adjusting her limbs in hold, making sure her fingers were pointed just so. Clarke gave herself over to the practice, letting her mind fill with the knowledge and trying to commit it all to memory until it was second nature.

Once she’d completed part of a sequence, Jaha stood back and hummed thoughtfully. “Alright. Now I would like you to repeat it. With your eyes closed.”

Clarke lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

With a sigh, she took up her stance, one arm raised high, left leg held out, toes pointed. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and began. Keeping her balance was much more difficult, but she managed to get through the whole thing, if a bit shaky.

“Again,” Jaha said. “Focus on the movement. Project what you want to do in your mind’s eye. Trust your body to take care of itself.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, but settled into it once more. Her fingers curled into the soft fabric of the skirt, raising it a little to flow with the movement as Jaha had shown her. He hadn’t said why, but she appreciated the tip nonetheless.

The music began, a little louder than before. It was an old Vanessa Carlton song she recognized from her middle school days, and it made her ease a little further into the dance, swaying in time to the sweet melody. In the midst of a slow twirl, large hands settled on her waist, a solid form at her back. At that point Clarke was so lost in the steps that she automatically leaned back, a smile curling her mouth when his hands glided down her arms, familiar and reassuring as her dreams. Then their fingers linked together, and there came a pointed squeeze.

Her eyes flew open even as she was sent into a spin, and when Bellamy stepped close again he was beaming. “Hi,” he whispered.

Her hands clapped over her mouth in astonishment, and then she flung herself at him with a resounding shriek, their laughter filling the rehearsal room as he lifted her off her feet. She forgot the cameras, forgot everyone, simply buried her nose into the crook of his neck and inhaled the faintly spicy scent of him, relishing the tight hold of his arms around her back, his lips brushing her collarbone.

“Now there’s something I thought I’d never see,” Jaha said dryly.

Smiling, she pulled back a little to see Bellamy’s face. “What are you doing here?”

“What, you didn’t miss your old partner?”

“Bell…” She looked between him and Jaha, remembering his earlier ‘nostalgia’ comment. “Wait. You’re here for the final dance?”

He nodded. _”Someone’s_ gotta make sure you have fun.” 

It took everything she had not to kiss him on the spot, let alone drag him upstairs to her room that instant. Bellamy was well aware of it, too, if the playful twinkle of his eyes was anything to go by. Jaha insisted on continuing the practice, and Clarke found she didn’t really mind. Dancing with Bellamy again was pure joy, cameras or not.

By the time they were finally allowed out, her cheeks ached from smiling so damn hard. Her pulse was at a gallop, determined to finish a race only she understood. They stood shoulder to shoulder waiting for the elevator, fingers brushing ever so carefully. When the doors closed behind them, Bellamy turned to say something only to be cut off by her lips against his as she threw her arms around his neck. He stumbled a little, laughing even as he crowded her into a corner, his mouth slotting over hers without restraint. Clarke moaned agreeably, her hands wandering the expanse of his back and urging him closer. She could feel the heat of him through her flimsy skirt and leggings, and it made her crazy.

Only the _ding_ of the elevator reaching her floor made them separate, mouths swollen and hearts racing. For a moment she considered simply hitting the emergency stop on the elevator and continuing right then and there.

Bellamy laughed again, sending a brilliant smile her way, and she blushed, realizing she may have accidentally voiced her thoughts. Leaning down, he trapped her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking lightly until the second the doors opened. Breathless, she twined her fingers with his and hauled him out into the thankfully empty hall, retrieving her keycard with shaking hands. It took her three tries to swipe the card properly, with the way Bellamy’s mouth had latched to the curve of her neck. 

Finally the light beeped green, and they shoved inside.

~~~~~~~~~

Bellamy thought he might be losing his mind. He’d been excited as hell to surprise Clarke, that was a given. But he hadn’t anticipated what it would be like to dance with her for hours after that, knowing what her lips felt like against his, how her nails had a tendency to scratch along the back of his neck… And now, fuck. The little sounds she made on the elevator ride alone had driven him insane, and now she was staring at him like he was a meal. Damn if he didn’t like it.

Red bloomed in her cheeks and spread down her neck, and lower to the tops of her breasts as they spilled over the fabric. Clarke was breathing like she’d just run a race, her fingers bunching in his shirt like she was worried he might slip away.

Not likely.

Bellamy reached up and loosened her hairtie, watching her blonde curls unravel over her shoulders. With a small sigh, he carded his fingers through the silky strands like he’d been wanting to do for what felt like forever. Clarke’s eyes drifted shut, and when she absently bit her lower lip he groaned and wound her hair around his hands, pulling her mouth to his once more.

She rose to her tiptoes, their tongues meeting with an intensity that shouldn’t have surprised him but still kind of did all the same. One of his hands slid to her jaw, coaxing her mouth wider, and Clarke moaned when he licked inside a little feverishly, unable to help himself from devouring her. He decided then and there he really liked the sound of Clarke Griffin moaning.

When she finally tore her lips from his, he continued to trail kisses up her jaw, wondering what other noises she would make. She clutched at his shoulders when he reached the skin under her ear, and he grinned.

“You know I spent like an hour in Bed Bath and Beyond because they had peppermint-scented everything,” he murmured. “The girl at the counter gave me the weirdest look.”

Her laugh tinkled merrily. “That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Lightly, he grazed his teeth along her skin, her small mewl causing him to suck on the spot for an inordinate amount of time.

“Bellamy.” The whisper was ragged and longing, and he only had time to think that he _really_ wanted to hear it again before she dragged his mouth back to hers for a biting kiss. 

Then she was walking backwards, arms linked around his neck to made sure he followed-- as if he wouldn’t. Bellamy refused to unlock his mouth from hers, and so neither of them really knew where the bed was, just that it was the thing they tumbled onto when they couldn’t go any further. She shoved at his shirt impatiently, nails raking up his chest and along his back like she couldn’t decide where to go first.

The thought made him smile stupidly, and he bent to kiss her long and hard. Clarke’s entire body was like a livewire under his, writhing and bucking as his mouth followed the column of her neck down to the graceful slope of her shoulders before pausing at the swell of her chest.

He glanced upwards, waiting for Clarke to open her eyes. When she did, it was to glare. “Why’d you stop?” 

Smiling, he kissed the corner of her mouth, his hands flirting at the hem of her shirt. “Just wanted to make sure… that you were sure.” Not the best sentence he’d ever created, but considering the situation, he figured that could be forgiven.

Clarke gazed at him, then leaned up for a chaste kiss. “Bell,” she said sternly, “You had better not stop again.”

He laughed. “Always so damn bossy.” 

“I know you missed me,” she replied. He grinned wolfishly and sank his teeth into the alluring flesh above her neckline, rewarded by the low moan that echoed in the room.

She hastened to get the shirt off, and though he tried to help, he was basically useless once her breasts were bared to him. Already peaked, they were as pink as her lips, surrounded by the rosy flush that he was happy to find extended all over her skin. He cupped one globe in his hand, squeezing lightly, and Clarke arched up with a breathy sigh, hands fisting in his hair and urging his head down. He didn’t need to be told twice.

His lips latched over a nipple, tongue swirling around the hardened bud. Clarke’s nails left crescent moons in his shoulders when he nibbled at the sensitive skin before moving to her other breast. This time he just closed his mouth around the pink bud and sucked, a groan rumbling in his chest when he looked up and saw her head tossed back on the pillow, mouth open in silent bliss. Her nails scraped down his back, between his shoulder blades, embedding low above his waistband, and he surged up to take her lips again, unable to stop his hips from rocking forward.

Clarke whimpered, fingers yanking at his trousers at the same time that his hands were on her skirt, and together they removed the rest of their clothing. He sighed at the feel of her, skin upon skin, smiling when her hands lingered over his backside. Lifting up on an elbow, he cocked an eyebrow at her.

She arched one right back. “Don’t be coy. You know you have a nice ass,” she winked and leaned up to bite his lip, digging her fingers into his skin at the same time and laughing at his helpless grunt. Then her hands slid around to his front, one skating across his abs as the other wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Bellamy swore and pushed into her grip, burying his face in the curve of her neck. She hummed and let her other hand wander, almost lazy, sweeping over his shoulders and across his back.

Trying to regain his wits, he swiped his hand between her thighs and nearly came then and there when he found her slick and warm. It was Clarke’s turn to mutter a curse when his fingers teased her entrance, and then she released him to flatten both palms on his back, legs falling wide open in invitation.

“Bellamy.” He looked up at her shaky voice. “Please--”

“Condom?” 

She shook her head. “P-pill. I’m clean. And… I trust you.”

Gently, Bellamy cradled her cheek and pressed his lips to hers. “Me too,” he promised, and she smiled, nodding.

He sank inside her slowly, his lungs momentarily forgetting how to function at the squeeze of her walls around his cock. 

“God,” Clarke rasped out. Before he could ask if she was okay, her heels dug into his ass, driving him forward until he was buried deep. His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull. Clarke’s hands swarmed his back, one gradually traveling back into his hair so she could tug his head up for a kiss.

He began to move then, drawing out at a treacherously slow pace, then pushing back in, but that got cut short real quick when Clarke hitched her legs high up on his waist, locking her ankles behind his back. Soon his hips were snapping into hers, Clarke’s moans rising in pitch until they turned into his name over and over. Feeling her muscles spasm, he lifted his head, needing to see her face.

Blue eyes caught his. Her body locked up for a moment as she teetered on the edge.

“Let go,” he whispered against her lips. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

Clarke let out a stilted cry as her body clenched, the release sweeping through and making her shake, her walls fluttering madly and drawing his own release from him with a force that made him see stars.

He tried to roll over, he truly did, but her hands wound around his back and all but flattened his body atop hers, her legs cinching over his hips as if to confirm she wanted him there. It was kind of hard to argue with that, at least for a few blissful minutes. Clarke’s hands stroked through his hair, her lips occasionally brushing his forehead. His tongue snuck out to taste the sweat on her skin, smiling when she couldn’t help her small sigh. 

Finally he tipped them over onto their sides, gladly keeping Clarke curled around him.

“So that happened,” she said, and he laughed, kissing her soundly.

“It’s going to happen again.”

~~~~~~~~~

Clarke didn’t notice the dark bruise below her ear until she was getting ready the next day. As Bellamy shuffled up behind her, she squinted in the dim light of the bathroom, her eyes widening. He dipped to press a kiss to her shoulder, arms sliding around her waist.

“Bellamy,” she complained, “how am I supposed to cover this up?”

“Hmm?” He looked up from tugging at her other earlobe, then smirked rather proudly until she elbowed him. “Ow! Alright, calm down. Just leave your hair loose today and use one of… those.” He waved a hand at the various bottles spread out over the sink. “I’m sure you can go grab some makeup after practice.”

She made a disgruntled noise but knew she didn’t really have any other options. Bellamy tilted her chin until he could capture her mouth in a lingering kiss. “I really am sorry. Mostly.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, halfheartedly swatting at his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, we have to get ready or we’ll be late. Jaha doesn’t need any more reasons to give me The Look.”

“I agree.” Bellamy’s hands slid down her front, ghosting over her panties. “So we should definitely shower together. Saving time, and all.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, simply lifting her into the shower stall and covering her yelp with his mouth. By the time the water warmed up, he had two fingers crooked inside her and his tongue thrusting hotly into her mouth, and Clarke decided that showering together was most certainly going to be a thing from now on.

Jaha totally knew what was up. The smirk didn’t leave his face for one second during their entire session; not that she really cared. Bellamy was a complete and utter distraction, in the best possible way. They knew each other’s bodies so well at this point that every other moment was the longest tease of her life, though they did their best to cut it out when the cameras eventually appeared in the doorway.

That night it was her who crawled atop Bellamy, hips sliding down over his with no resistance, making him moan into her mouth. That was as delicious a sound as she’d ever heard. The mattress springs didn’t take long to begin squeaking, which had them both in fits of laughter even as they rocked together. 

Things got hectic after that. Her dance with Bellamy was just one of three she would be performing during the finale, in addition to her solo. As she soon learned, their Viennese waltz was the result of viewer voting for their favorite pair. Her other two dances were a mix of styles, a samba with Miller during which neither of them could keep a straight face when they were told to make 'bedroom eyes' at each other, and a contemporary group number with all the Top 20 girls. The choreographer for the group number was a blonde named Harper. Clarke took an instant liking to her easy demeanor and quick smiles. She was strict enough to keep them all in line, and to envision the movement of ten bodies moving together, but also the first one to crack a joke. The days flew by, and the nights... well.

She couldn't quite keep her hands off Bellamy, and he was only happy to return the favor. It was Saturday night that Clarke found herself completely without breath as Bellamy spread her thighs apart, a devilish grin curling his mouth as he settled himself between them. She hadn’t ever been interested in the idea of trying this with anyone before-- but as she’d already learned, Bellamy was different. So when he’d whispered into her ear how badly he wanted to taste her, all she’d managed was a choked “please” that had him scooting down her body within seconds.

Now he shouldered her thighs impossibly wide, baring her to his gaze, something that in any other case would have made her flush with embarrassment. But right now she was burning with want, desperate for his touch. 

His eyes darted upwards once more, a hand tracing soothing circles on her hip. She nodded. Bellamy leaned in and licked a slow stripe up her slit, pulling back just as her hips bucked uncontrollably, a cry leaving her mouth. With a smile that made her toes curl, he absolutely buried his face between her legs, his mouth doing unimaginably talented things that had her calling out nonsensically. Her fingers curled tight into his thick hair, trying to pull him even closer, nearly dying on the spot when he moaned against her flesh. The heat in her body reached a fever pitch when he began to play with her clit. She came with a pillow pressed over her face to muffle her wail, Bellamy’s lips soft against her skin until she finally unwound her legs. 

He made his way back up her body, pausing to press light kisses here and there, before taking a curious look at the pillow. Following the gaze, she belatedly noticed the teethmarks. Hers. Bellamy was smiling wickedly when he kissed her, declaring in between breaths that he was going to buy her a whole new set of pillows after the competition.

In the middle of rehearsal the following day, Jaha introduced his plan for a new lift he wanted them to try. After several stumbles in which they both landed on the floor in a heap, she could practically hear his laughter in her head. So the remainder of the nights were spent by the pool, trying the lift in stages until they had conquered each section of it. Then, they had to put it all together. 

The idea was that, at the very end of the dance, she would link her hands behind his back and he would do the same to her, lifting her in the air. Her legs were bent at the knee, one calf nearly parallel with the ground. But that was just the first rotation. He had to continue on to the second rotation with only the slightest pause, during which she would switch the positioning of her legs mid-air, and then he had to raise her even higher as they completed the second turn.

The sheer amount of force on him, and balance on her, took enough out of them that they slept soundly. When Clarke woke up to find herself wrapped around Bellamy’s larger form, one leg sandwiched between both of his and her face level with his shoulder blades, she knew that no matter what the competition brought next, this feeling right here was her own personal prize.

~~~~~~~~~

The producers played the rehearsal package, as she’d known they would, right before she and Bellamy stepped out on stage. Her screech sounded even louder through the speakers, and she flushed scarlet at the audience’s mixed laughter and sighs. Bellamy leaned down and planted a noisy kiss on her overheated cheek, grinning affectionately as he pulled her out onto the darkness of the stage. 

Their outfits were the simplest she’d ever worn on the show. Aside from a few long strands of hair twisted back from her face, the rest of her curls were left free to tumble over her shoulders, spilling over her tidy white blouse. The shirt was loose and billowy, tucked into a long pale yellow skirt that almost matched her hair-- a near-replica of the skirt she’d been practicing with all week. 

Bellamy was similarly dressed in a white button-up that somehow made him look even broader than he already was, the tailored vest atop it conforming to his narrow waist. The sleeves were pushed to his elbows and his hair was left tousled, free of any styling. Paired with the grey slacks that clung nicely to his lower half, she could almost pretend they were on a date, if a little old-fashioned. Which, she was perfectly fine with.

Jaha had certainly set the mood enough. The stage was lit with a backdrop of a park, a narrow path winding into the woods, the blue sky giving way to the bright shades of sunset. She settled against Bellamy, back to back, feeling a smile already creeping across her face. Then the lights went up, and she swayed on the spot, leaning into him as the first strains of the song began.

_Just a day, just an ordinary day  
Just trying to get by._

Bellamy was in front of her then, eyes twinkling as they spun.

_Just a boy, just an ordinary boy  
And he was looking to the sky._

She took his outstretched hand, falling into the rhythm of the dance with ease. It was meant to be light and airy, not something overly complex that wouldn’t let her relax.

“You are the heart of this,” Jaha had said, pointing at the two of them. “No fancy costumes, no props. Just you.”

And he was right. This was all she wanted, to be dancing again on stage with the boy who’d become her partner in every sense of the word. Everything else faded away. The audience, the cameras, the distractions. It wasn’t a contest; it hadn’t been, for a while now. It was just him and her and the song. 

This moment was theirs.

~~~~~~~~~

They were twined together in her bed that night in what was quickly becoming Bellamy’s favorite new position. Clarke’s nose brushed his back, her lithe arms and legs wrapped around him like a bow as she clung to him. He never thought he’d enjoy being the little spoon-- then again, this was just another first to add to the list of firsts he’d discovered with Clarke. Sighing contentedly, he brought her hand to his mouth, leaving soft kisses on her fingertips.

“So my mom called earlier,” she said. “She’s not coming to the finale.”

He stilled. He knew she was purposely being casual about it. “That sucks,” he finally answered. “I’m sorry.”

He felt her shrug. “It’s a re-election year. I expected it.”

Frowning, he shifted onto his back, cupping her cheek. “It’s a few hours, Clarke. It shouldn’t be a chore for her to come see you on the biggest night of your life.”

She smiled and kissed his palm. “We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re in the Top Four. Everyone’s going to want you. As they should. I bet you’ve already gotten some calls.”

Clarke nodded. “A few. Have you?”

“Well… I was kind of waiting until tomorrow to tell you, but--” he laughed as she all but pounced on him, knees straddling his waist, her hands pinning his wrists to the bed as her hair fell around them like a curtain. 

“Like this position, do you?” He grinned up at her when she blushed.

 _“Bellamy!”_ She shook him lightly. “Tell me!”

“Well… believe it or not, Jaha actually reached out to me. When he’s not doing the show, he mentors a group of kids in the city. He teaches them to dance, among other things. It’s just sort of a haven for kids who can’t go home right away afterschool.” 

He exhaled tracing her sides. “I just… I’m in the middle of my degree right now, but I’ve always known I wanted to teach in some capacity. With the money from the show I can probably pay off enough bills to accept the job, maybe finish my classes sooner.”

Clarke threw her arms around him in a hug. “That’s wonderful, Bell. I’m so happy for you.”

“I haven’t officially accepted yet. He’s taking me on a trial run in a week or so.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can already tell you’re going to love it. And they’re going to love you.” She brushed her nose against his, then added, “Just like I do.”

Time froze then, the seconds stretching out like honey spooled from a jar as he attempted to process her words. Clarke beamed, apparently perfectly okay with his inability to speak, simply ducking to kiss his nose, his cheek, his chin, until he finally gathered his wits and rolled them over, the silence broken by her small yip of surprise.

It was his turn to smile as he captured her mouth in a kiss, repeating the words into her skin the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~

Clarke stood on the stage the next evening, Miller and Raven on either side of her. She was barely listening to the host or the judges, her eyes floating over the audience. Bellamy was deep in conversation with a tall blonde man, who, judging by the huge banner he’d been waving all night, was Raven’s boyfriend. Beside him, Octavia waved cheerily at her while occasionally holding up different pictures when she couldn’t decide on yet another wedding item. The most recent was a picture of lillies versus roses. Clarke nodded to the left, at the lillies, laughing when Bellamy caught sight of the whole thing and pulled Octavia’s arm down with an apologetic glance.

“Looks like you’ve already won over his family.” Raven’s dry remark made her jump a little, then giggle.

“More accurately they won me over. God, I can't believe we're here, you know? We made it.” She paused, then added, “You know, if I could vote, I’d pick you.”

Raven cocked an eyebrow. “Of course you would. I’m awesome.” She grinned and looped her arm through hers.

When they went to the final commercial break, all the dancers from the Top 20 were invited on stage. Clarke tried and failed not to watch Bellamy hop up the steps, his smile brighter than any stage light. They formed a line behind the three of them, and she didn’t have to look to know where Bellamy was. Goosebumps rose on her neck, and she bit back her smile. Raven made a show of bouncing around to the music, twirling Clarke with her until they’d switched spots and moved a few steps back, nearly bumping into the others. Warm hands spanned her waist for a brief moment to steady her. When she glanced up, Raven winked.

By then, they had come out of the break and the host was approaching, her heels clicking across the stage. Clarke twisted her hands behind her back and took a deep breath. Whatever happened next was out of her control, and for once that was okay. She was ready to face the next stage of her life and everything it brought. And chances were, she wouldn't be facing it alone. She had a partner now.

Bellamy’s fingers brushed her wrist, a promise. Clarke smiled as the lights went up.

_Ready or not, here we come._

**Author's Note:**

> I so appreciate you reading this!
> 
> The tango came from a few places, but I imagine a lot of it to be Kayla and Max.  
> For contemporary, Joshua and Katee's routine and Jeanine and Jason's were upfront in my head.  
> Mercy was Katee and Twitch all the way haha.  
> The Battlefield dance was from Jeanine and Brandon.  
> Their final dance was pretty much Mollee and Jakob's Viennese Waltz to 'Ordinary Day' - also where the fic title comes from.


End file.
